Macified

It finally happened…I’m “Macified”; or you might say “Appleized.” In any event I’ve come under the spell of the brooding omnipresence of Steve Jobs.

After many years I’ve abandoned P.C.; and a MacBook Air has joined my relatively new iMac. It’s painful. It’s expensive. It’s destiny.

It all began years ago when I bought my first computer – a $5,000, clunky, creaky, nasty IBM. It cost the equivalent of a BMW, but performed a lot worse. The original was heavy and huge. It had a single floppy drive that accommodated only one large droopy (hence “floppy”) disk at a time. I spent minutes – even hours – swapping disks in and out until the room spun out of control. Often the villainous devil machine put me into a loop in which I couldn’t proceed with my program or get out of it. It was sheer terror. Screaming endlessly at the machine and IBM did not cure the problem. After a few years I surrendered to something new – a computer with two (count ‘em) drives and new, improved, smaller disks. It was better, but still slow.

Friends urged me to venture into new territory – Apple World – but I resisted because that other demon, Bill Gates, had a virtual monopoly on all the programs we were using. So, I stuck faithfully to one P.C. after another. The prices went down and productivity went up. However, it was like swatting flies to get rid of spam and assorted garbage that plagued all my machines.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Mr. Jobs relentlessly pursued progress. To me the monster breakout was when the Apple Galaxy brought a number of Microsoft programs into its orbit. Not only that. Who could not be seduced (I can only speak of males here) by the sexual lure of the sleek Mac’s? The siren called, but my resistance held firm.

Eventually my P.C. began to falter; slowly at first, but at an increasing speed. I couldn’t get my work done; I was inundated with spam, and I was constantly building excuses so I could succumb to the lure of the aluminum-sheathed beauty. My dreams were haunted by visions of that gorgeous thing calling to me. Finally it happened. On a whim my wife and I wandered into the Apple store in Naples. It was astonishing. Friendly faces abounded. Efficiency was in the air, and looming over everything else were rows of silver beauties whispering “pick me,” “buy me,” “I’ll never abandon you,” and things too graphic to describe in a family publication. The inevitable followed. My iMac – more accurately an “iMacess” because it’s too beautiful to be a “he” – adorns my desk. She’s wonderful in all ways.

In my workaday other office my old Dell laptop began to run out of gas or, maybe, just developed too much gas from something I fed it. In any event it began to sputter, misplace words and even syllables, and lose precious stories. Back home my iMacess started working me over. “Why don’t you look at the MacBook?” she murmured softly. “I can’t, I can’t” I replied, “It’s just too expensive.” “Think about it” she went on, “You might even consider a refurbished one, and save a bundle.”

I pondered, and then contacted two dear pals who were touring the country in their land cruiser thing. They are Apple devotees and straight shooters as well. I asked their advice. Without hesitation they urged me to go for it. My wife, a saint in all ways, joined in. “Get it, and stop whining,” she advised.

I did it. Our stuffed animals are deliriously happy, and so am I. This column is written on an iMac, and I approve this message.